


Be the Light

by To_Shiki



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Come as Lube, Drinking, Face-Sitting, Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, I may or may not really like that idea, Intercrural Sex, Multi, New Guy tries to make a move, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Telepathic Bond, Tochiro's one of the few voices of reason on this ship, Yama wants to be on his knees for those two so bad, Yama's not afraid to fight dirty, but I have a strong need for these three in my life, how do I title?, how do i summary?, i dont know where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Shiki/pseuds/To_Shiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After exposing the lies the Gaia Sanction have told Harlock and his crew continue to sail about the cosmos.  As the crew help Yama learn the ropes Harlock and Miime plan how best to get his successor in their bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Have we waited long enough, you think?”

The two watched from above as the young man in question, surrounded by a circle of cheering space pirates, repeatedly wiped the floor thanks to his opponent. Getting up, he made a show of shaking his head and brushing himself off, feigning disorientation before charging at the woman in drab sweats. No one was surprised when she easily knocked him off balance (again) and restrained him with an arm around his throat just tight enough to remind him she was no delicate damsel.

“No. He’s still too uncomfortable in his skin.”

The two observers saw her whisper something in the boy’s ear. Within the blink of an eye he was struggling in her grasp, desperately trying to turn them enough to look up over their shoulders. She allowed the move just so he could catch a glimpse of their captain and his companion. Feeling his muscles tense informed her that he’d spotted their spectators and it was time to finish.

“Then we shall wait some more.”

He had enough time for his heart to stutter at the sight of them watching. He opened his mouth to gasp or speak but it didn’t matter. A blink later and he found himself flat on the ground on his back, breath knocked out of him and shoulders and skull throbbing from the impact on the metal flooring.

The bodies closing in around him, some inquiring to his well-being some joking at his expense, left only a sliver of space for him to squint past. The retreating backs were quickly blocked as Dr. Zero pushed his way to the young man’s side.

“Keep showing interest and we’ll get him in our bed much faster.”

~*~

A year later and Harlock decides it’s been long enough. In the back of his mind he can feel Miime humming her approval from her place at the engine. Both had taken turns in making Yama aware of their interest in him. Lingering touches, praises at his quick learning filled with innuendo, everything they could think of to ease him into the idea of joining them. The other shipmates who had previously shown an attraction to him suddenly giving him a wide berth also helped.

In front of him stands Yama; hands on the steering wheel, weight shifting from foot to foot as Yattaran and Kei take turns giving him information from their stations about the approaching Gaia fleet. The two older pirates constantly sneaking knowing smirks over at their captain when the young man wasn’t looking. Not that Harlock notices anything past how perfect his view was of Yama’s backside. Miime’s whispered comment of how well he filled out those leather pants has the immortal zeroing in on said asset and silently grateful that Tori-san was perched on his lap instead of his shoulder.

‘Shall I help you with that?’ Miime teases. Before he can accept or refuse she takes advantage of her telepathy and floods his brain with ideas she’s played around with for the past two years since Yama entered their lives.

_Yama naked and stretched out over Harlock’s table, limbs restrained as the two enthusiastically lick wine off his skin._

_Harlock sitting on his throne fully clothed with Yama stripped bare riding him while pleasuring Miime._

_Miime and Harlock publicly claiming Yama on the main deck with their crew witnessing their joining._

_Yama going down on Miime for hours, whining as his orgasms are denied, while Harlock sits back and dictates what he does next to please her._

_Harlock trapping Yama’s hands to the handles of the wheel and thrusting into him slowly as they fly to their next destination._

_Miime watching as Yama reduces Harlock to a shivering mess with that mouth perfect for cock-suc-_

“Captain!”

Kei’s sharp call wrenched both Harlock and Miime back to the outside world.

“We’re here,” she glared at him.

Ahead he could see the approaching targets. Supplies were running low for the crew and it was time to remind the Gaia Sanction of their presence once more. Breathing deep he forces his hard on down with thoughts of leaders sitting comfy in their little thrones while the rest of humanity slowly flickers out of existence. It takes longer than usual until he’s able to stand.

Once he’s sure he’s regained his composure he gracefully stands and saunters over to the wheel, acutely aware of all eyes (Yama’s eye) on him. He stops just short of actually coming in contact with the young man. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Shall we, Captain?”

The one eyed glare from Yama is priceless. Everyone else quickly scatter to put on their hard suits when Harlock puts his hands over Yama’s and leans against him chest to groin / _tight heat welcoming him delightfully as he pounds into him/_ and whispers throatily into his ear.

“Time to show you how Captain Harlock says hello to other ships.”

The strangled gasp and elbow to the ribs was well worth it, Harlock thought as he steered them towards to the middle of their first victim.

The fact that Yama quickly rubs his ass against his captain’s returning hard-on slides to the wayside when they both race to the ports to raid the enemy ship.

                                                                                                    ~*~                   

Two hours and forty-eight minutes later and the Arcadia was making her getaway. A fifth of the crew were taking up residence in Doctor Zero’s infirmary while the rest lugged around their hard won supplies.

Their intended target turned out to be mostly a trap. It was indeed carrying the supplies they’d hoped for. It just also happened to be carrying the most recent recruits for the Gaia Sanction’s slowly growing military specially designed to battle Harlock and his pirates.

Needless to say - while showing some promise - they still needed more practice.

Harlock wasn’t proud to admit but he’d lost track of where Yama was in all the excitement of battling against opponents that weren’t sub-par like in the past. He did a quick head count of those organizing the plunder against those he knew were in the tender care of their medic.

With four people unaccounted for and Yama making five he turns sharply on his heel and stalks down the halls until he reaches the infirmary. Blond and Hercules exit just as he approaches the door. Both glance at him quickly before hastily getting out of the way muttering about helping with the supplies.

Two down, three to go.

Inside he found two more crew members on the right being seen to by Doc Zero, one with a bandage taped onto his head right at the hairline with blood seeping through sluggishly and another with her elbow wrapped and a bloody nose. Without even looking behind him the doctor jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the other side of the room.

To the left, lying face down on a gurney is his final missing crew member. Boots and shirt off he has Miime leaning over him applying a salve to the rapidly forming bruises blossoming all over the younger man’s back. His right hand is curled up near his head grasping onto the sheet white knuckled when she presses too hard. The left is tangled in strands of Miime’s hair while she works, lazily trailing after the little lights floating around her playing as a distraction.

Harlock hesitates only a second before making his way over to their side. He uses Yama’s squirming when Miime hits a ticklish spot along his spine as an excuse to put one hand in sweat damp hair and the other at the small of his back, thumb brushing against bare skin in a soothing manner.

Eye following her hands as they move up to the discolorations along the shoulders Harlock asks quietly, “How’s your eye, Yama?”

“S’fine,” he mumbles into the bedding. If his back didn’t hurt so much he’d be embarrassed to be seen like this by the captain. But it did hurt that badly from being thrown around by guys twice his size out to actually kill him unlike when he first joined the crew. And if all the advances and flat out flirting over the past couple months by the two immortals surrounding him were to be believed then maybe it was okay.

The hand massaging his scalp had him squeezing his mouth into the bed to muffle the pleased moan. He turns his head to the right, Harlock’s hand following and continuing the soothing action against the right side of his face. “Hurts a little. Maybe.”

Harlock smirks at the new answer. He lets his fingers trail over the bridge of Yama’s nose, pressing just enough along the space between the furrowed eyebrows, thumb sliding across the edge of the eye socket and back to relieve the pain. “Doctor Zero has almost figured out how to remove it without damaging your eye,” he consoles the younger man as he keeps up the motions.

The only response is a hum of approval, whether at his words or actions it wasn’t clear. Miime meanwhile has finished her own treatment of their boy. Wiping off her hands and capping the container of salve she looks on pleased at the other two.

“You’ll need to put this on at least twice a day for the best results,” she told Yama, eying Harlock knowingly. There would be no way the younger man would be able to apply it himself. Not with how painful it would be to maneuver his arms that much. “The faster it heals the faster you’ll be back out there.”

“Thank you, Miime.” Harlock regretfully releases his hold on Yama as the young man shifts painfully to get into a better position to get off the gurney. Both immortals help ease him onto his side before gently sitting him upright. Miime gathers up the discarded boots and shirt resting at the end of the gurney as Harlock steadies him when he finally gets both feet on the ground.

Yama, in a fit of anger at being manhandled and not being given back his clothing, tries to jerk his arm out of the supportive grip his captain has on his bare bicep. The spike of pain from abused shoulders has him leaning against him instead when his knees threaten to go out from under him. Harlock just shifts his grip accordingly, hand going from arm to around his waist and hooking in a belt loop at his hip.

With a grateful nod to the doctor for the salve the three made their way to the living quarters.

They shuffle past the dining hall where those not piloting the ship were busy celebrating another successful raid. Miime stops in briefly to retrieve a couple bottles of wine and lay a hand on Yattaran’s shoulder. Looking in the direction of the two men outside he nods in understanding before she rejoins them, clothing in one hand and dark red wine in the other.

Yama wasn’t paying much attention to the scheming look the other two shared. The halls were cold on his bare feet and chest with Harlock’s arm around his back leaving a comforting band of warmth spreading along his back. The lingering headache from the Gaia Sanction attempting to use the retinal scanner convinced him to lay his head on Harlock’s shoulder while they waited on Miime’s return. If he sighs when Harlock lays his chin on top of his head that was his business. The huff of air ruffling his hair lets him know that it’s also the captain’s too.

As soon as Miime rejoined them, two bottles of fancy wine in hand and no glassware, they resume their trek to the quieter end of the ship. Even though it was still early Yama was looking forward to simply crashing face first onto his crappy bed after adjusting the thermostat to resemble a tropical jungle. The adrenaline crash along with a now healing body was catching up to him quickly. Surely they’d understand his need to sleep through the next 24 hours. He was injured after all.

It took him being laid down on a bed that was way too soft to be his own for him to notice that they’d walked (stumbled) past his room. He gave a fleeting struggle in protest, he wasn’t some baby to fuss over, until cool slim fingers weaved through his hair and began massaging his scalp. Deep chuckling and a melodic humming followed him into a peaceful nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited Shower Scene!

Several hours slipped by before Yama’s brain was haltingly ready to rejoin the waking world.  His body on the other hand was a jump, or any sort of quick movement to be honest, away from declaring mutiny and refusing to leave the cloud upon which it lay.  Hearing soft voices to his left he carefully, back muscles having stiffened up while he slept, shifts to lay on his right side, propping himself up with a pillow smelling strongly of metal and chilled ozone clutched to his chest as support.

Though the room was dimly lit, lightning from the ship’s dark matter helped illuminate what the candles couldn’t reach.  Blinking away the fog of sleep he could see the scourge of the Gaia Sanction sitting behind his large desk, cape gone and uniform exchanged for a loose fitting tunic and most likely sleep pants.  Relaxing on the chaise to the left was Miime still in her usual skin-tight suit.  Her long hair was draped out of the way over the backrest.  Each had a glass of wine sitting in front of them with the woman’s being less full.

It took his fuzzy brain a good five minutes not only to remember that wine was a main source of nutrition for the Niflung but that the room had gone silent.  Thunder echoes around the room while he blinks at the two immortals across the room.  They are both sitting there watching him watch them.  Maybe he wasn’t as awake as his brain thought he was.

Another blink, much slower this time, and he’s back on his stomach with someone playing with his hair.  His nose twitches when he sighs, trying to figure out who it is without opening his eyes.  Thick fingers, heavy and warm weight against his side.  Same metallic and chilled lightning aroma from the pillow.

Blearily he opens his left eye and attempts to once again glare his captain into submission.  It didn’t work earlier when there was the excitement of a battle nearing but maybe now that everything had calmed down it would succeed.  Maybe even a little bit.

It didn’t.

Harlock merely kept combing his fingers through Yama’s hair, smirking at the sleepy almost purr the young man started emitting.  Brushing his thumb against his left temple he remarked, “There’s a shower to the right,” he uses his chin to motion where. “Maybe you should take advantage of it so we can apply more of the salve.”  With that he slipped off the bed, leaving a sweeping chill along Yama’s side and hair standing up every which way due to dried sweat.

A shower couldn’t hurt.  Much.

Without any assistance from the two elders in the room, too busy outright watching him, he wiggles his way to the edge.  Sitting up slowly he notices that he’s wearing nothing more than his leather pants.  Which have slipped dangerously low while he slept.  Keeping his back straight to avoid stretching aching bruises he stares down at his bare feet.  His face starts to heat up as a blush works its way across his cheeks.

He doesn’t remember getting this far undressed while awake.

A deep breath and he pushes up from the bed.  It’s more of a stagger than a walk that gets him to the offered bathroom.  Once inside he leans back against the closed door and sighs at the coolness seeping into his back.  The heat from the shower would be best but one step at a time.  Gait a smidge steadier, he gets the shower going nice and hot while contemplating how, exactly, he was going to peel the leather pants off without making his back hurt worse.

Button and zipper undone lets him roll them down past his hips and over his ass.  He was about to crouch down and hopefully remove them inch by painful inch without falling when two calloused hands covers his from behind.

Those very hands keep him from jumping out of his skin in shock.  They also result in his back hurting more from the aborted motion. 

“Damnit, Harlock!”

A bare chest pressing against his back is more than warm enough to start soothing the pulsing ache.  Steam fills the room as Harlock reaches up into Yama’s disgustingly greasy hair.  Nimble fingers untie his eyepatch.  Yama braces his hands on the sink, steam starting to fog up the edges of the mirror as his captain finger combs his bangs away from his eyes.  Out of habit, he closes his right eye as soon as he feels the implant activating.

Harlock’s breath is hot and damp on the shell of his ear when he whispers, “Both eyes open, Yama.  _Let them see how well you’re doing.”_   Harlock’s horrible, talented, hands slide down, over his bare chest.

With a breathy gasp, Yama does as he’s told. 

Both eyes open, staring straight into the mirror, the implant flares to life.  Yama’s wince of pain is quickly canceled out as Harlock tweaks his nipples.  Another gasp takes its place before the hands move lower.

Information flits across his vision as whoever’s on the other end tries to gather data.  The mirror only goes so low, though.  All the Gaia Sanction’s officers are able to see is Yama: hair a mess, panting open mouthed as hands trail down his torso.  They can barely see how his arms shake as they support his weight.  The encroaching fog along the mirror’s edge teases them as Yama jerks when the hands go _lower_.

They can’t see Harlock slowly pulling tight leather pants down Yama’s trembling legs.  A strong grip on each ankle to help him step out of them before being tossed into the corner.  His weapon calloused hands slowly trailing back up well-defined calves and thighs.  Only the goosebumps along his neck and shoulders are visible to the peeping enemy.

The last thing Gaia officers see is Harlock slowly rising from behind the younger man.  One hand wrapping across his bare chest as the other comes back up to his face.  It _slowly_ covers his right eye as he turns his face to bury it in Yama’s neck, Yama’s mouth opens wide as he moans.

~^~

Somewhere far away from the Arcadia, two female and one male Gaia officers politely excuse themselves from the consoles.  Older, more experienced officers shake their heads at the thinly veiled excuses.

_They’ll learn,_ they think to themselves, _to keep that under wraps until lights out like a normal officer._

~^~

Back in the Arcadia, Harlock’s flat on his back outside _his_ locked bathroom door.  Miime’s quietly chuckling at the bewildered frown on his face. 

Miime gracefully walks over and sits down, right on his clothed erection.  “At least he didn’t kill you,” she whispers into his mouth, covering up his strangled moan.

Inside the steamy bathroom, Yama’s in the shower, finally.  Face red and forearms braced against the tiles so the hot water pounds on his back.  Legs spread and head hanging low, so he’s hidden by his wet hair.  He keeps his eyes shut tight so that no one can see how hard he is, how much his body is shaking from the strain of not touching himself in his _attractiveandinterested_ captain’s shower.

He can’t hear anything over the rush of the shower and his racing heart, but going by the quick glimpse he had of Harlock’s condition before he locked the door on him…

Yama’s got his hand wrapped around his leaking cock in no time.  His movements are erratic and jerky, imagination running wild with questions as he tries to figure out what’s going on out there.

_Does Harlock have Miime on his bed, working out his excitement on her?_

_Is he still on the floor with Miime on top of him, controlling how he pleasures her?_

_Who’s louder?  Do they even make a sound when they come?_

_Are they just **playing** with me…?_

Just the thought of being their plaything, their toy, has Yama shuddering closer to completion.  His balls tighten up, ready to spill.  A few more strokes, images of him _serving_ them in whatever way they wish, naked and ready to pleasure them.  His belly’s clenched so hard some quiet voice inside is worried about cramping.

…or are they serious about me joining them?

A sudden picture pops into view, crystal clear.  The three of them, lying on the captain’s wide bed, naked and so entwined they’re practically glued together from dried sweat.  The sensation of warmth, from the picture or the shower beating down on him, and safety is the last straw. 

Forehead presses against the warming tiles as he comes hard.  Bright lights flash behind his eyelids as his body spasms.  Body shielding the wall from the water means he decorates it in stripe after stripe of come.  His chest heaves as he gasps in humid air, one arm still braced against the wall.  He holds his softening cock in his hand, legs and ass still twitching as he cools down.

It’s a good long while before he can let go of himself and straighten up.  Embarrassed, he twists to lean his back against the adjacent wall so the water can wash away all evidence.  Heartbeat slowing down, endorphins slowing down, he can feel the pain building back up along his spine and shoulders.

He needs to actually wash up and get out.  They need to put more salve on his back so he can heal faster and get back out there.  Harlock may be stronger than he was a year ago, but he still needs time to recover more of his dark matter before Yama can try to slack off.

He needs to wash his hair, clean off dried sweat and smoke from yesterday’s fight.  He gets his hands halfway up, barely past his shoulders, before he’s forced to stop with a pained groan.  Forehead thumps against the tiles hard as he lets his hands fall down to hang limply by his side.

“Okay, body first then.”

Soaping up’s a test of his flexibility and pain tolerance.  He keeps his forehead against the wall, lifting one leg at a time to wash them off.  Arms and chest are easy.  His back impossible.  It’s not that it’s _painful_ , it’s just painful and he’s getting lethargic and doesn’t want to deal with moving so much that it breaks the pleasant haze he’s in.

As he’s contemplating just how to clean his hair he can hear someone knocking loudly on the bathroom door.  Without moving from under the spray of the showerhead, he tries to shout, “What?”

It comes out more like a muffled ‘w’a?’

The knocking gets louder, the knob jiggles as the person tries to come in.  Yama brings his hand up to flop against the controls.  The sudden silence makes him stagger a little more awake.  He clears his throat a couple times before trying again.  “What?”

“You all right?” comes Miime’s voice.

Where’s Harlock?  “’m fine.”

A moment of silence.  “Do you need assistance washing your hair?”  There he is.

“Ye-,” the answer sticks in his throat.  His face heats up as his heart starts pounding.  If he says no, his hair will be partially disgusting from only using water to clean it.  But if he says yes…  She-He- _THEY’LL_ be in the shower with him.  Naked bodies slick with water and soap, running their hands through his hair, along his shoulders, down, down downdo-

He’s moaning out ‘yes yes yes’ without even realizing it.  He opens his eyes only when he feels two pairs of hands on his wet skin.  When was the water turned back on?  He and a handful of remaining officers get an eyeful of Miime’s bare breasts, rivulets of water trailing over and down. He shuts them when she leans in to kiss him, pushing him back against the warm wall that is Harlock’s body.

Something hard and hot nestles between his ass cheeks and his knees almost buckle at the realization that that’s Harlock’s cock.  That’s his captain rubbing himself off, using him to please himself.  When Miime’s hands direct Yama’s up to her chest, when she encourages him to play with them as she traps his own cock between her thighs…

He tries not to disappoint them as they work him over.  He clenches his ass cheeks as someone gently massages shampoo into his hair.  A pair of hands play with his nipples, pinching and twisting and pulling, so he copies it all for Miime’s pleasure.  His head’s pushed to rest on a strong shoulder, cupping water to rinse his hair as Miime squeezes her thighs around his aching cock.

Something cold is poured onto his head.  Conditioner, his mind supplies, as it drips down his scalp.  It warms quickly as it slides down his spine, straight into his crack.  He can _feel_ Harlock’s sigh as the man grips his hips and starts really thrusting into his slicked hold.  There’s going to be some wonderfully hard to explain away bruises on his hips soon.  Harlock doesn’t seem to care, though, as he frantically works his way closer to climax.

Miime’s hands are creating a fuzzy tingling in his head as she works the conditioner into his clean hair.  Even though Yama’s no longer playing with her, merely holding on to her breasts, she doesn’t complain.  She knows how overwhelming their captain can be.  So, she merely tugs gently at his hair tangled in her grip.  One hand leaves so it can wrap around the younger man’s cock, manhandling him so the head rubs against her better.

The sharp pain from having his hair pulled as the two use him is all Yama needs.  He winds up spurting all over the wall a second time, Miime still rubbing against him as his cock jerks and twitches.  Harlock bites down hard on Yama’s neck as he joins him shortly after, his release covering up splotches of bruises.

A second climax, surrounded by steaming hot water and two beautiful, strong, immortals, is more than poor Yama can handle right now.  He collapses to his knees, Harlock and Miime helpfully guiding him down slowly so as not to crack his knees upon the hard surface.  His hands slide down to grip lightly at Miime’s calves.  Her hands cradle his cheeks as Harlock moves enough to wash the conditioner out of his hair for him.

With eyes still closed, he can feel the contentment, the pure bliss, radiating off everyone.  He soaks it up like a sponge.  It curls in and around his brain, blocking out everything else.  Miime is all airy and warmth as she keeps his face tilted up towards her.  Weaving in and out is Harlock, running burning cold, with a heaviness to it that barely keeps Yama from floating away from himself.

“Now, now, Yama.”  Harlock’s voice comes from far above his head.  “A captain must make sure that his crew are well taken care of.”  Amusement sparks bright and breathtaking all the way down his spine.  It leaves him gasping, cheek pressed hard against Miime’s thigh.

Harlock acts as a shield, keeping the younger man from inhaling any water as he firmly directs his open mouth towards Miime’s dripping folds.  He’s through, working his tongue and lips like his high school girlfriend had taught him.  He wants to use his hands.  Wants to show her he can make it even better for her.

But she’s keeping his hands pinned to her thighs as Harlock holds his head in place.  His neck’s starting to cramp from the unnatural angle it’s being forced to maintain.  He doesn’t complain, though.  Above him, Miime’s slowly grinding down onto him.  He keeps going and going until she shudders her way to climax.

Eagerly, he laps up every bit of her juices as he can.  She tastes just like the wine she was drinking smells – slightly fruity with a hint of herbs.  It’s almost addicting. 

He doesn’t realize he’s brought her to a second orgasm, chasing each burst of flavor on his tongue, until he’s being gently tugged away.  Before he can complain, Harlock’s right there, bent over him and plundering his mouth.

Kneeling on the floor, back arched to welcome his captain into the rough kisses, Yama honestly couldn’t be happier.  He could stay like this:  trapped between the two of them, air hot and humid in his lungs, surrounded inside and out with their love.

Well, until his back starts _screaming_ at him from the prolonged position.

The pain has him falling onto his ass, Harlock almost falling over him from the sudden movement.  A hand on his shoulder from Miime’s the only thing saving the two men from being a tangle on the tiling.  Yama curls forward to try and lessen the building pain as the two above him quickly gather themselves.

“Wha-!”

Yama’s lifted up into strong arms.  Dripping wet and weakly struggling, he’s carried out of the shower stall and wrapped up with a large soft towel.  Another small one briskly dries his hair as much as possible before being dropped to the floor.  Harlock’s kind enough to replace his eyepatch for him.  A tricky task as Miime carries him out of the bathroom.

Before the arm behind his back can become too unbearable, he’s carefully dropped onto the captain’s bed.  He’s quickly rolled onto his stomach.  Harlock joins him soon after, straddling his hips and resting his weight right on the young man’s ass.

Still completely naked and more than a little damp.

Yama’s spreading his legs as wide as he can before he actually thinks about doing it.

“As tempting as that is, my boy, you do need to have more ointment put on those bruises.”  Harlock’s voice is tinged with longing.  He shifts his hips, grinding down happily in time with Yama’s whimpers.  He pins Yama’s shoulders down as he turns to thrusting his renewed hardon between welcoming cheeks.

_SMACK!_

Harlock’s face down on top of Yama, ass smarting with a long-fingered handprint blooming on his left cheek.  Smirking at her _handi_ work, Miime scolds Harlock with, “Ointment first, then you can ravish him again.”

“Yeah, Captain,” Yama wheezes out from underneath him.  “Heal me up, then work me over.”  With what little room he has he stretches out and wiggles around.

“All right, fine, you tease.  Both of you,” Harlock tosses the last bit over his shoulder as he rights himself.

Merely applying the salve before working him over, gradually turned into a soothing massage.  Strong fingers pressed firmly onto sore muscles, working the medicinal mixture into the fully formed bruising.  Miime had joined them soon after drying her own hair and now lays next to Yama.  She gently finger combs his hair away from his face, lightly trailing fingertips up and down, from his head to shoulder and back again.

Both immortals are pleased with how the day has gone.  No attacks from the Gaia Sanction, the Arcadia’s repaired and their crew entertaining themselves (whether or not that was Kei’s quick thinking or not, they’ll never know), and most importantly…

Yama was still in their bed, all loose-limbed and contentment rolling off of him to infect the other two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to end this with Harlock getting thrown out, but thankfully my brain kept yelling 'more more!' at me. This is only vaguely plotted past this point. Anything ya'll wanna see, leave a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along comes a new guy, and some development in their relationship.

“So why, exactly, is your shower so small?” Yama questions the next morning.  It’s the first thing he can actually think of past the fact that he woke up naked between two equally naked immortals.

Miime lounges on her chaise, already helping herself to breakfast of wine with a side of wine.  Harlock’s sitting right on Yama’s ass again, enjoying another turn of rubbing Doc Zero’s salve into the poor young man’s back. Yama’s just laying there, taking it… all in and hoping his brain doesn’t melt out his ears from it.

Naked.  They’re all naked.  Last night _actually happened_.  He got beat up, taken care of, slept like the dead until late afternoon.  Then showered, with his captain and Miime – WITH THEM – had awesome shower sex (check that off the bucket list), then slept deeply until the next morning.

Hence the beginning of twenty questions.  If he can think of that many he may survive the rest of the day.  Unless Harlock massages him into a pile of goo.  That man really knows how to give a massage.

“Why not?” his captain (lover?) shoots back quietly.  The salve’s long soaked in.  Now he’s just enjoying the soft warm skin beneath his hands.  Slightly different from Miime’s less elastic skin. “The perk of being the captain:  I may have a smaller shower than the locker rooms, but I have more hot water than those multi-directional ones.”  Strong fingers find a knot by Yama’s neck and _press_.  The resulting groan should be illegal.  Even for a baby pirate.  “I don’t care for doing gymnastics, anyways.”

“Ha!  Tell that to all your enemies you’ve flipped over.”  Yama’s rebuttal is cut short, becoming another moan, followed by an enticing wiggle when Harlock switches his attention to the other side of his neck.

Yattaran and Kei are going to be Very Disappointed™ if Harlock and Yama’s not on the bridge in an hour.

_There’s quite a few things you two could do in that position that wouldn’t take longer than 30 minutes._   Miime teases, sending little flashes of images to Harlock.

The older man’s holding Yama down by the shoulders and grinding his cock into the thin sheet separating their bodies before he knows it.  A hundred years to strengthen his resolve and patience and self-control… only to have it brought low in an instant with these two tag-teaming him.

Beneath him, Yama’s gripping his pillow in a white knuckled grip and positively _mewling_. 

Each time Harlock grinds down on him he pushes back.  Not with his arms, not refusing his attention.  He seems perfectly content with being held down.  No, he pushes back with his legs, widening them and lifting his ass just right.

Miime graciously comes over to help them.  Using her inhuman strength, she rips away the sheet like a cheap party trick.  Now there’s nothing separating them.  Yama’s turned his head enough to glare challengingly at Harlock.  Without looking breaking eye contact he pulls out the lube stashed under the pillow.

It seems like Yattaran and Kei will have to get used to their captains being _slightly_ late.

~*~

Much later that morning, as Harlock takes the wheel with Yama “needing one more day to recuperate,” money exchanges hands behind his back.  Kei congratulates both immortals before tearing into Harlock about deadlines.  At the Dark Matter engine Miime takes it all in with a pleased smirk.

Nearby, in Harlock’s quarters, lying in bed with an aching back and sore ass, Yama can’t help but echo her amusement.

~*~

The next morning Doc Zero clears Yama, much to both their surprise.  The deep bruising is nothing more than faint yellow-green splotches.  The Doc has him go through a variety of stretches to ensure he has full range of motion with minimal pain.

“Looks like the Captain took _good_ care of you!” was the one phrase Yama got to hear all day whenever he passed a fellow shipmate.  His only saving grace is that his slight limp from yesterday and this morning is gone.

He’s at the wheel, hands loosely gripping the pegs, when _something_ tickles at the back of his mind.  It feels like a cool breeze before shifting into a storm – light, cool air becoming heavy and electric.

Back and forth, short bursts to long, howling gusts.  A quick burst of cool wind, the storm settles down.  Nothing more than a light pattering of rain, a lingering breeze drying it all away.

He doesn’t have long to puzzle it over, though.  Yattaran’s calling out their approach to a safe port.  Time to sell some goods and maybe find a new shipmate or two.

Who aren’t spies.

~*~

Goods sold or traded, new supplies aboard, along with one new shipmate.  Cole’s in his thirties, rough around the edges, and built like a brick wall.  As the crew hazes him Yama slips away.  With Harlock and Miime watching over the proceedings, he’s free to be alone and _breathe_.  So long being out in open space, broken up only by battles, he’s forgotten what it’s like to be surrounded by strangers _not_ out to cut him down.

He wasn’t sneaking, but only just barely not sneaking around.  He’s snagged a bottle of wine from the Captain’s (his? their?) stash before leaving.  Breath caught in his throat, he doesn’t relax until the door slides closed behind him.

Almost alone now, he walks slowly over to sit down in front of Tochiro’s main hub.  The pulsing red lights slow down from their normal pace, the man in the machine knowing just how to help Yama relax.

Taking a swig from the bottle, two things happen at once.

One, he nearly chokes on the bitterness of it.  How those two can drink it like it’s water he can’t fathom.

Two, the storm’s back.  Angrier and more violent than before.  The soothing breeze from before is just as bad – chilling him to his bones.  While at port, they were both lighter, more playful.

He quickly gulps down three mouthfuls of unpleasant wine in hopes it can drown out the chaos.  A bright flash of red distracts him from a forth drink.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.  Don’t want to end up like Harlock just yet.”  He chuckles and lets the bottle rest on the floor.  Leaning to the side, he lets all his weight rest against a thick cluster of cables.  “Hey, Tochiro?  Does Harlock _have_ a first name?”  Maybe asking questions to the heart of the Arcadia will help better than the wine.

Or help with the wine since there’s definitely a voice answering his question.  With a question, the jerk.

“What do you mean, “I forget?”  You don’t even sound so sure about that!”  Another weak pulse of light.  “Ugh, okay.”  A small sip of wine when he can feel the winds building.  “Okay, then, easy question:  why are Harlock and Miime so pissed off?  I can feel it from here.  Did I do something wrong?”

A flickering of pulses, almost akin to Morse code.

“Angry?  Why would they be angry?”

Two short bursts of light.  A whispering heard just over the howling winds.

“Cole?  The new guy?  What, angry that this one’s not a spy like I was?”

Tochiro’s engines practically growl at Yama’s self-depreciating tone.

“I’m not.  Just, we got a cool new guy on the crew, so it’s _fine_.  Now I’m no longer the baby of the Arcadia.  Even if he’s older than me.”

Another sip of wine, another slow pulse of light.  There’s a questioning tone to Tochiro’s next sentence.

“Nah, it’ll be okay.  I’ll make it to my-“ an irritated grinding of gears, “-our room after I finish this bottle.”

He raises said bottle to his lips, swallowing down nothing more but a few drops.  “Huh.  When’d that happen?”  Letting his hand drop back down, he’s only vaguely grateful that the glass doesn’t break.

The excitement of being in port, even if it was a little overwhelming, of silently judging the new guy alongside Harlock and Miime, the wine.  Everything’s catching up to him now.  ‘I’ll just close my eyes for a minute,’ he thinks.

Drifting away on a wine-infused haze, he can’t be bothered when the breeze and storm finally die down.  Defenses down, they surge to the front, swirling around his brain like a comforting embrace as his drifts away.

~*~

Sometime later he wakes with a crick in his neck and a muscular body wrapped around him from behind.  Tochiro’s yelling at him, but it’s all muted but wine and the blurry just-woken sensation.  Strong hands hold him securely about the waist as a cold nose nuzzles against his neck, inhaling deeply.

Reaching down for the thigh pressed against his, Yama gives it a squeeze, mumbling, “Harlock…”

An _ungloved_ hand leaves his waist to rest over his hand.  The callouses are _wrong_ in a way Yama can’t put to words.  The voice whispering, “Hello, pet,” grates on his very nerves and makes his hackles stand on end.

In an instant Yama’s shaking off the haze of wine and the hands holding him.  Tochiro’s cheering him on as he tries to wrestle away from the new guy.  He rages back at both is opponent and the storm brewing in his head.

“Get offa me!” he growls, when he’s pinned on his back.  His wrists are held stretched above his head.  If this was Miime holding him down, if this was Harlock pinning him down.  That would be fine.  He would welcome it, even.  But it’s not Miime or Harlock.

Above him, straddling his hips and breathing hard in excitement, is Cole.  Brown eyes blown wide and casually flexing to show off.  “Why?”  Switching to hold both of Yama’s wrists in one hand, he puts the free one under Yama’s chin.  “I think I rather like you right here.  Don’t you?”  That hand slowly trails its way down his captive’s neck to heaving chest to …

In the back of Yama’s mind there’s nothing more than raging storms and destructive tornadoes making their way closer and closer.

“As handsome as you are,” Yama grits out, shifting his body to attack, “you’re just not my type!”  On the last word he lashes out, taking advantage of Cole’s distraction of his wiggling body.  Yama’s left knee finds its target without mercy:   Cole’s very obvious hardon.

‘Thanks, Kei,’ Yama mentally sends her way.  The dirty move frees him from his opponent.  In a flash he’s up on his feet.  Lingering traces of wine has him wobbling for a second.

On the floor in front of him, Cole’s cradling his crotch and whimpering.  To his left Tochiro whirls and flashes angrily.    From behind come Miime’s wisps of light, floating around to create a barrier between the two men.

Angry, panting hard from the exertion, Yama barely flinches when a hand from each lover lands on his shoulders.  Their warmth surrounds him better than Cole’s ever could as the flank him.  Neither say a word, letting the raging within their minds settle down now that he’s within physical reach.

_I’m **not** some damsel in distress!_ he thinks angrily at them.  He makes no move to shake off their hands.  Merely takes a step forward so he’s the main focus when Cole finally gets his bearings.

_We know you’re not,_ the settling breeze whispers.

_Just came to watch the show,_ the storm assures him.

A warm gust of wind circles them in thanks before quickly dispersing.  The new guy’s struggling to his feet now, jumbled words spilling from his lips when he spies his new captain.  Time to see where this goes.

~*~

‘Drunk, my ass,’ Harlock grumbles as he makes his way to his quarters.  The bottle of wine (“That one’s mine!” shouted Yama) plus other crew members vouched for Cole’s alcohol intake.  So now Cole gets to spend his first night on the Arcadia in a cell.  For assaulting another crew member, even while drunk, is punishable by a good two weeks of cleaning duty on the opposite side of their victim.

“We’ll keep an eye on ‘im,” the others promise offer being informed of the transgression. 

Miime and Yama had left Cole to him after each side told their story.  All three agreed that having Yama dish out punish, while running on adrenaline and being the one attacked, would not be a good idea.  So Miime lead him away with promises of helping him wash off cooling sweat and Cole’s unwanted touches.

Frustrated that he’s missing out and doesn’t have concrete proof to simply boot Cole, he steps into his quarters, slamming the door closed behind him.  The sight before him has his spirits, and his cock, lifting by the second.

He may have missed another wonderful time in the shower, but that was only the opener. 

The main show’s playing out on his large desk.  Fresh from the shower are Miime and Yama.  Miime has her hair up in a messy bun, excess water dripping down to land on Yama’s face.  From there they mingle with his own wet hair down onto Harlock’s desk in growing puddles.

On his back, hands entwined with Miime’s by his head, Yama’s only leverage comes from his hips and legs.  Frantically he thrusts up into her, trying desperately to please her for a second time since leaving the shower.

She’s cruel and doesn’t make it easy for him.  Each time he goes up, trying to hit her in just the right spot, she follows, making him chase for a second before giving up and collapsing back onto the desk.  Now that it’s Miime holding him down, Miime taking control of their movements, he couldn’t be harder.

Harlock watches for a good five minutes before deciding to join.  Casually he struts over to his desk, striping down to nothing but boots, pants, and undershirt.  He takes him time – pulling out his chair to the sound of Yama’s panting, sitting down when Miime chuckles, scooting forward enough to lean his elbows on the wood.  Here he has the perfect view as Yama’s abs tremble in exertion. 

“It’s a shame she’s holding you down, Yama.  If your hands were free you could get her to come much faster.”  Lazily he rests his chin on one hand, single eye soaking in their jerky movements.  Their boy is red in the face from trying to hold out.  Taking pity on him, Harlock says, “Perhaps I should help you out?”

He doesn’t wait for a response.  Ignoring Miime’s warning glare, he reaches out.  She’s quick to sit up, releasing Yama’s hands, but not quickly enough to avoid Harlock’s.

A pinch and twist of her nipple finally pushes her over the edge.  Pleasure pulses through her, her warm walls clamping down on Yama’s poor dick.  As Harlock stands to put both hands on her, she gazes down at Yama and softly orders, “Come.”

He obeys, nearly weeping in relief.  She milks him for all he’s worth while Harlock contends himself with playing with her sensitive nipples.

While he lays there a shaking mess, she finally bats away Harlock ‘s hands.  Letting the softening cock slip out of her hole, she crawls up Yama’s body.  Thighs on either side of his head, she lowers herself until she can feel his breath ghosting over her skin.  Grabbing a handful of damp hair, she gives him another order.  “Clean me up, dear.”

Automatically, Yama’s hands reach up to get a firm hold of her hips.  She teases him again, resisting his pull bit by bit.  Only when he starts wordlessly begging does she finally relent.

Firmly seated, she tangles both hands in his hair.  Neither of them notices Harlock leaving his spot.  They’re completely unaware until Yama jolts under her, his whine vibrating up, causing her climax again.

Glaring over her shoulder she sees an unapologetic captain.  One hand’s spreading Yama’s leg while the other’s gripping his poor abused cock.  Harlock squeezes again, dragging his hand up and off, taking their mixed fluids with him.  The wicked glint in his eye has her bracing herself as best she can.

Just as Yama’s collecting himself and returning his attention back to Miime, he feels it.  That same cruel hand is now at his hole, his and Miime’s come being used as lube.  His dick gives a half-hearted twitch and nothing more.  Instead, he holds on tight to Miime’s hips as Harlock makes good use of his relaxed lower half.

It doesn’t take long at all.  Once he’s properly stretched, Harlock grabs him by the thighs and _yanks_.  Both growl at him when it unseats Miime.  Yama’s mouth and chin’s mess, glistening in the low candle light.  Above him Miime’s near quivering with how close she was.

Harlock just gives them a not-so-innocent smirk before slamming home into Yama’s tight hole.

They spend the whole night fulfilling each of their fantasies involving them and Harlock’s desk.  When they finally collapse onto their bed, voices hoarse and muscles as stable as jelly, Yama only half-jokingly say, “Miime’s spot, chair thing, is next.”

Chuckling and groaning.  Quickly they settle down, Yama literally squashed between them.  Surrounded by their overly warm bodies he’s fast to kick off the blanket when one of them attempts to cover him.

~*~

In the wee hours of the morning Harlock jerks awake.  Inhaling deep, he lays there, arm tight around the slumbering body resting against his chest.  Over Yama’s shoulder he can see Miime looking down at them.

She’s leaning on her elbow, much like Harlock had earlier.  Though the smile on her face is softer, happier then what his had been.  Noticing the eyebrow raised at her, she trails her hand up from Yama’s waist, up his arm, coming to a rest on his cheek.

Feeling her touch, even dead asleep, Yama heaves a happy little sigh.  Completely unaware at the awe on his captain’s face when tendrils of Dark Matter leave his mouth.


End file.
